


5 Doppelgängers that Henry Morgan Ran Into Over 200 Years

by ioanite



Category: Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), Forever (TV), Hornblower (TV), Titanic (1997), Wilde (1997)
Genre: 5 Times, Gen, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say there's at least one person out there who looks like you. In Henry's case, it appears to be a generational thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1797

Henry never forgot the first time he’d run into someone who shared his face, in part because it happened before he’d been saddled with immortality. It had been at a holiday party, given by one of his father’s friends. Henry was on holiday from his medical studies, and had gone to increase his social circle (and perhaps eventual patients, as he liked to joke), though he wasn’t sure how many people he’d recognize. Still, as long as there was music and a little wine, he was sure he’d manage.

He’d been in the middle of chatting with a young lady when a late arrival was announced; Jacob Frobisher, who was also in the shipping business. With him was an incredibly awkward and embarrassed-looking man, wearing the dark blue outfit of the Royal Navy, who was introduced as Horatio Hornblower, junior lieutenant on the _Indefatigable_. Henry had glanced up at the name Frobisher and had been about to return to the conversation when he got a good look at Hornblower and stopped speaking mid-word, blinking in amazement. Hornblower was a bit broader in the shoulders and his skin was tanner, but he could have passed for Henry’s twin. Hastily excusing himself, Henry made his way through the guests to introduce himself to the apparition. His curiosity needed to be satisfied.

Thankfully, being involved in the shipping business gave him an easy in. As soon as he called Frobisher’s name, Frobisher’s eyes lit up and he shook Henry’s hand enthusiastically, inquiring after his father. Henry smiled and made small talk, all the while glancing at Hornblower, who had slunk into a shadowy corner after being announced. Hornblower had a similar look of shock on his face when he took in Henry, and he actually stepped a little closer to get a better look. Pushing the advantage, Henry gestured in his direction. “Would you mind introducing me to your guest, Mr. Frobisher? He and I appear to have something in common.”

“What are you…oh!” Frobisher looked between the two men, eyes glowing with mirth. “Goodness! That _is_ remarkable, isn’t it?”

“It is, indeed,” Henry said, “And I’d be curious to see if we share any other characteristics.”

“Of course, of course. Henry Morgan, meet Junior Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower. I’m chummy with the captain of the _Indefatigable_ , you see, and asked if I could borrow one of his officers to bring to this party and try to drum up some support and patriotism for the war effort. He obliged me with Lieutenant Hornblower, and now I’m very glad I brought him along. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, shall I?”

He moved away, leaving Henry and Hornblower to size each other up. Finally, Henry held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Hornblower.”

After a hesitant pause, Hornblower shook his hand. “The same to you, Mr. Morgan.” he said softly.

Henry beckoned Hornblower into a slightly more secluded area, the better for them to talk in private. “Where are you from? I wonder if we might have a relative in common.”

“Kent,” Hornblower answered, “Though I’m not entirely sure of my family’s history.”

“Hmm, and I’m pretty sure the Morgans are mostly London born and bred. Still, there may be some second cousin floating around that could explain this remarkable resemblance.”

“Or it might be a coincidence,” Hornblower pointed out, “A friend of mine on the _Indefatigable_ claims that I’m a dead ringer for that man in Parliament who’s been banging on about the slave trade, and I’m almost positive that he’s unrelated to me.”

“Perhaps,” Henry said, making a mental note to drop in on a Parliamentary hearing before returning to school to see this lawmaker for himself, “And after all, a recitation of our various family histories would become quite dull quite fast. Instead, tell me more about yourself, Lieutenant. Does the war go well?”

Hornblower, it turned out, was not a very adept conversationalist. Despite being older than Henry, he was ill at ease with the crowds (he described being sent to this party as being “press-ganged”, and had only gone because his Captain had ordered him to) and seemed surprisingly shy. But Henry was curious and possessed a very deep well of patience, and continued to probe gently. They did make some headway when it came to light that Hornblower’s father was also a doctor, and they spent a good half-hour discussing medicine. When the dancing started up and Hornblower visibly flinched, Henry suggested they go upstairs to the card room, where it would be less crowded, and Hornblower agreed, sounding relieved.

It was at the card table where Hornblower really blossomed. He and Henry were drawn into a game of whist, and though Hornblower was silent for most of the game, intent on his cards, Henry saw a change come over the man. He was a damned good player, winning most of the hands, and there was a quiet shrewdness in his expression that this was something he both enjoyed and was good at. Henry was glad to see that his “twin” did have a few things that brought him pleasure.

At the end of the evening, Henry grasped Hornblower’s hand firmly. “Good luck to you, Lieutenant. Thank you for serving His Majesty.”

Hornblower inclined his head, and smiled ever so slightly. “Thank you. And good luck to you in your studies. England and her armies could use more doctors.”

He never saw Hornblower again, but from that day until the fateful day he boarded the _Empress of Africa_ , Henry always browsed through the naval gazettes his father brought home, smiling whenever he caught sight of Hornblower’s name. Who would have thought such a quiet man would go on to have such an illustrious career?


	2. 1892

Henry was one of those people who believed there was a reason for everything. It was why he kept doggedly searching for the cause of his immortality, and why he didn’t put too much stock in coincidences. He was still convinced that he and Hornblower had shared a common relative somewhere, but he’d been kept too busy to really look into it. Unexpected immortality and imprisonment had a way of doing that.

Still, there were moments where that conviction was tested. Having returned to London for a time, he took advantage of the cosmopolitan nature of the city and tried to make friends with people in all the various spheres; political, scientific, literary. On the literary front, he wound up falling in with the Aesthetics, and spent some of his evenings at their parties, discussing literature and various other art forms. Naturally, one man in particular tended to hold court there.

Henry liked Oscar Wilde well enough. The man’s wit was certainly incredible, and he knew how to hold your attention. There was occasionally a flash of smugness in Wilde’s demeanor, as though he _knew_ he was brilliant and wanted you to know it too, but as long as he wasn’t outright bragging, it was a fairly easy to overlook flaw.

One night, Henry arrived late to one of these little gatherings (an emergency surgery had required his attention) and was informed that he’d missed Wilde holding court on the latest play that wasn’t his. Henry just murmured something polite and looked around for an interesting conversation to get involved in. He caught sight of Wilde in the corner, but surprisingly, he wasn’t surrounded by the usual large group of admirers. Instead, he was in the middle of what appeared to be a heartfelt conversation with a young man. Henry was about to politely turn away when the young man turned his head slightly to point into the room. Even though Henry only caught a glimpse of the man’s profile, he would have recognized that face anywhere. After all, he saw it in the mirror every morning. Now intrigued, he fetched a glass of port and lingered near the wall, waiting for an opportunity to introduce himself.

Eventually, someone called out to Wilde, begging him to come join them, and Wilde murmured something to the man, hand squeezing his shoulder, before moving away. Henry moved in at once. “Pardon me, but I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. I felt it was only polite to try to make you feel welcome.”

The man turned to face him, revealing that yes, he and Henry were identical. The man gave a little start. “I…and you…”

“Odd, isn’t it?” Henry remarked pleasantly, “And I wish I had an answer for it. Your surname isn’t Morgan, perchance?”

The man shook his head. “Gray. John Gray.”

“Henry Morgan. Well then, I remain baffled. Perhaps this is something we could puzzle out together.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help,” Gray said, “My family isn’t particularly illustrious, and weren’t really prone to keeping records. Besides, I’m rather preoccupied with my work at the moment.”

“Oh? What is it you do?”

“At the moment, I’m a translator. But…I write. A little.”

“Anything I might have read?”

“A few pieces here and there. I’m working on a book of poetry that I’m hoping to publish sometime next year.”

“I’ll look out for it in the shops.” Henry promised.

“And what is it that _you_ do?” Gray said, somewhat brusquely.

“I’m a doctor. Don’t let that frighten you, though; we enjoy art just as much as anybody.” Henry said with a laugh, trying to put Gray at ease; the man seemed oddly put out, though that could have been thanks to his earlier conversation.

Abruptly, Gray changed the subject. “What do you think of our honored guest?” he said, gesturing over in Wilde’s direction, where the playwright was holding court once more.

Henry shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed his work, and he has some interesting things to say. Beyond that, I can’t really judge. I think we’ve exchanged maybe thirty words between us.”

Gray stepped forward, gripping Henry’s arm tightly as he hissed “It would probably be in your best interest to keep it that way. Oscar’s rather…particular about the people he allows in his inner circle.”

Taken aback, Henry tried to find some way to respond, but before he could open his mouth, Gray had released him and stepped away. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor Morgan. It was…interesting to meet you.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Henry with nothing to do but take a large sip of his drink and try to puzzle out what on earth had just happened. He left the party shortly thereafter, feeling a bit unwelcome. He had no plans to stop attending the parties altogether, but perhaps he would keep his distance from Wilde whenever Gray was in attendance. The last thing he needed was a public argument that could lead to people inquiring about his past.

(Three years later, as Henry read about Wilde’s trial in the papers, all the pieces came together. He would forever wonder who Wilde had met first, himself or Gray, and if the former, if _that_ had been the primary reason for Gray’s insecurity. Yet another mystery that even Henry would never know the answer to.)


	3. 1912

“Thank you, Mr. Fleet. That will be all for now.” Senator Smith said.

There was a brief murmuring among the audience as Fleet stepped down. “Hard to believe they weren’t able to spot a huge iceberg, isn’t it?” Henry’s seatmate said conversationally to him.

Henry shrugged. “If it really was as dark and calm as he said, it’s possible.”

“Still, a ship that big…you’d think they’d have taken more precautions.”

Henry couldn’t argue with that. For months, he’d been hearing about how grand the new ship _Titanic_ was, and had even considered swinging round to the docks on the day she was due to come into port just to see her for himself. Opening his paper and finding out she had sunk was surprising, to say the least. Like everyone else, he’d been curious to know the details, hence wrangling his way into the Waldorf to watch the Senate hearings. So far, the reports had been fascinating, if a little discouraging.

“I would like to call Mr. Lowe, the fifth officer. The witness will be sworn in.”

The crowd started murmuring again as the next witness rose to his feet. The man was still wearing his uniform, though whether it was out of pride, necessity, or having been requested to by the inquest was uncertain. He turned towards the panel to be sworn in, and Henry gave a start. Even from this distance, he could tell that Lowe looked a lot like himself. Thankfully, his seatmates hadn’t seemed to have noticed, too interested in what the new witness had to say. Henry leaned forward, wanting to catch every word while simultaneously trying to get a better look at yet another twin.

Maybe it was just because he had a more vested interest in this particular witness, but the line of questioning was much more irritating than before. It seemed that Senator Smith sent Lowe round in circles for a good ten minutes, asking questions about dates and drills, sounding almost accusatory when Lowe got his dates mixed up. Lowe must have been feeling similarly put out, because a bit of sarcasm started creeping into his voice as the questioning went on. It reached its high point when Smith, apparently convinced that every officer on board should have been aware of the danger the _Titanic_ was sailing into, asked Lowe if he knew what an iceberg was made out of. Lowe paused for a fraction of a second, then he said, pleasantly but with just a touch of venom lurking in there, “Ice, I suppose, sir.”

Henry was the first one to laugh, though he immediately clapped a hand to his mouth to try to suppress it. Fortunately, others had apparently found it equally amusing, even though the response clearly annoyed Senator Smith. He rapped the gavel sharply before continuing the interrogation. For his part, Lowe just sat back mildly, but Henry could swear he saw a trace of a smirk on the young man’s face.

The questioning seemed interminable, but one thing became very clear; Lowe might not have been good at remembering the minute details, but when it had come to trying to rescue the passengers, he had been in top form. He’d had the guts to yell at the head of the White Star line for interfering with the lowering of the lifeboats (though to be fair, he hadn’t been aware of it at the time), and he’d tried to protect his boat from being swarmed while simultaneously trying not to hurt anyone. Most impressive of all, though, was that he was the only boat that had been willing to go back to rescue the people in the water. He didn’t seem overly proud when he said it, just matter-of-fact, as though it had been the obvious thing to do. Henry felt his heart swell with pride at that, as though Lowe was his own son.

After another twenty minutes of back-and-forth, nitpicking questions, Lowe was finally dismissed. Just as soon as Lowe rose to his feet, Henry did the same, picking his way through the crowd, hoping he would be able to get through before Lowe vanished from the building entirely.

He was in luck; Lowe arrived in the lobby via elevator a few seconds after Henry had sprinted down the stairs. After taking a few gasping breaths, Henry ran a hand through his hair in order to look presentable and approached. “Excuse me, Officer Lowe?”

“No more bloody questions!” Lowe snapped, whirling on his heel, “I’ve had quite enough for one…oh!” He stopped and stared in amazement. “I’m sorry, I thought you were one of those damned reporters.”

Henry held up his hands in supplication. “I didn’t intend to ask any questions, save one. Would you like to have a drink with me, after all that? I know you abstain from alcohol, but it sounds like you could use a bit of tea or coffee after everything they just put you through in there.”

Lowe considered for a second, then shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, except back to my hotel or that damned inquiry. I’ll have to go back tomorrow, just in case they want to clarify a few points, but I’d like a few hours peace.”

“Understandably so,” Henry said, holding the door for Lowe, “Come on, I know an excellent café a few blocks from here.”

Lowe was quiet during the walk there, busying himself with removing his cap and jacket so as not to attract too much attention. He didn’t even seem all that interested in trying to get to know his drinking companion, though at least Henry had managed to introduce himself once they’d gotten out of the Waldorf. Even after they’d arrived, Lowe didn’t seem in the mood to start up a conversation, only speaking enough to give his order to the waitress. Feeling a bit awkward, Henry gave it another minute before speaking. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Senator Smith always sounds like he’s trying to pin the blame on whoever he’s speaking to.”

Lowe rolled his eyes. “He’s probably hoping this will be a feather in his cap that he can use to advance himself politically. But he’s going too far. ‘Do you know what an iceberg is composed of’, honestly!”

Henry chuckled. “Your response was masterful, though.”

“Well, it is, isn’t it? What the hell else would they be made of?”

Henry just grinned and shook his head. “He was just trying to throw his weight around. Personally, I think you did well up there. I don’t know how much patience I would have had in your place.”

“Well…thank you.” Lowe said, looking down at his hands. The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Henry nodded to her, taking the cups and passing the coffee over to Lowe. “Listen,” Henry said, “I know you probably would rather put it out of your mind, but I just wanted to say that I deeply admire your actions. It was good of you to go back, even when no one else did.”

To his astonishment, Lowe turned his head away, hands clenching into fists. “I could have done more.”

“You did plenty!” Henry protested, “Organizing the boats, rescuing four people, saving a sinking lifeboat even though you were worried about not being spotted by the _Carpathia_ …it’s incredible.”

Lowe shook his head. “That _hurtyn*_ Smith might have been wrong to point out how observant I should have been, but he was right about one thing; I didn’t need to wait that long before going back. Right after the sinking, when everyone was screaming, no, but as soon as the cries started to die down, it would have been all right to go. Instead, I waited until the cries had subsided entirely. If I’d been a little faster…maybe I could have saved a few more.”

There was a little catch in Lowe’s voice, and Henry’s heart went out to him. He certainly knew the feeling of having done your best, but thinking it wasn’t enough. Tentatively, he reached out and touched Lowe’s wrist. “Maybe so, but unlike Smith, I doubt most people are going to fault you for it. And there are at least three people who will never speak ill of you for what you did.”

Lowe looked up, giving a hesitant smile. “I suppose. It’s just…all too fresh. I don’t think _anybody_ who survived that night fully knows what to think or how to react. Maybe in time, I’ll look back and make my peace with everything. For now, though…I’ll muddle through as best I can.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Henry said, lifting his cup. Lowe chuckled hoarsely and lifted his cup in response.

Henry tried not to bring up the subject of the _Titanic_ again for the rest of the conversation, instead asking about any news from England, as he hadn’t been back in a while. Lowe obliged him, looking grateful for the change of subject. When the cups were empty, the two of them got to their feet, shook hands, and wished each other well. It was only when Lowe had disappeared round the corner that Henry realized they’d never openly touched upon their resemblance to each other. Not that he was at all surprised; after a disaster like the one Lowe had just experienced, even the obvious questions fall by the wayside.

He looked for Lowe’s name occasionally in the news, but once the _Titanic_ furor had died down, Lowe apparently kept a low profile. Not that Henry could blame him. He of all people knew the advantages of keeping your head down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hurtyn-Welsh for idiot.
> 
> Also, some of the lines during the inquest came directly from the inquest itself, as can be found here; http://www.titanicinquiry.org/USInq/AmInq05header.php. Be warned; it's long and can get a bit dry, hence Henry's reaction in the chapter.


	4. 2005

Henry had learned almost as soon as he’d arrived in New York that one advantage of living in a large city was that there were plenty of opportunities to pick up information that could be useful in trying to suss out the nature of his curse. One of his best sources had been founded in 1945, after the war; a three-day conference where scientific minds could gather and discuss their research. Many of the discussions were open to the public, and Henry often found time to pop in at least once during the conference, listening to the latest ideas and jotting down notes that he could use in his own research.

As time had gone on, the presentations had gotten more and more elaborate, and Henry was finding it harder to keep pace with them, especially when they relied on technological advances that Henry barely knew anything about. Still, he kept attending. Any scrap of information could come in handy.

This year, he wasn’t able to attend the bulk of the conference, being tied up with work. But he managed to slide in on Saturday evening, hoping he’d be able to catch at least one lecture. Clearly, one had just finished up; people were exiting the auditorium, talking amongst themselves. Henry obligingly moved to one side until the crowd thinned. From what he could pick up, the last lecture had involved some sort of space expedition, and the general consensus was that it had no merit. Glad that he hadn’t missed something that would have been relevant to him, Henry took a step towards the doors…

…And was barreled into by someone carrying a portfolio. Papers went flying everywhere, and Henry was doubled over coughing, having been smacked right in the solar plexus. “Sorry, sorry!” someone said next to him, “I really should have been looking where I was going! Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Henry managed after a moment, rubbing his stomach gingerly and reaching out to help the hapless attendee gather up his papers, “I guess it was my fault for moving when the area hadn’t fully…”

His voice died away as he looked up to hand the papers over and realized who, or rather, what he was looking at. It was yet another doppelgänger, though this was the first one he’d met with an American accent. This one was wearing a business suit, though Henry could tell at a glance that it wasn’t something the man was used to wearing. No doubt he felt more at home in a lab coat and slightly more casual clothes. The suspicion was all but confirmed when Henry’s eyes flicked to the lapel and spotted the name tag, announcing the man to be Dr. Reed Richards. Well then. At least they had something in common.

Richards was staring at Henry in similar wide-eyed amazement. “This is remarkable!” he said, turning his head this way and that, as though he wanted to take in Henry’s face from every angle, “I know it’s _possible_ for everyone to have at least one lookalike out there, but the odds of running into them in your lifetime are astronomical! I’m almost _glad_ I ran into you!”

“Charmed,” Henry said dryly as he pulled himself to his feet, “I’m Henry Morgan.”

“Reed Richards,” Richards said, shaking Henry’s hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I am sorry for bruising you. What brings you here?”

“I like learning about the latest scientific advances,” Henry said, trying to sound casual, “And yourself? I take it you’re one of the presenters.”

“I was,” Richards said, his cheeks turning pink, “Clearly, you weren’t present for my lecture. No, I should be honest, it was less a lecture and more me shamelessly begging people to take my idea seriously so they’d help fund my expedition. I’m running out of time; the storm passes overhead in just a few months…”

Now Henry remembered the derogatory murmurs of the name “Richards” as the audience had been filing out of the lecture hall. “My sympathies,” he said, “But if your idea has merit, I’m sure somebody else will be willing to help you out.”

“I’m running out of options,” Richards said, stuffing papers into his portfolio, “If the scientific community won’t take me seriously, I’m going to have to start taking my case to various businessmen in the area. _One_ of them’s bound to appreciate the potential of my ideas.”

“I wish I could be of some help,” Henry said with a faint smile, “But I don’t know any businessmen.” Though he _could_ try to orchestrate things so that Richards received an anonymous donation of a few thousand dollars…

Richards snapped his portfolio closed. “It’s all right. Meeting you was just the thing I needed to take my mind off of how badly things went in there. Tell me, you wouldn’t happen to have anyone named ‘Richards’ in your family tree, would you?”

“I don’t believe so,” Henry said apologetically, “And I don’t know of any Morgans who planned to settle in America, either.” _Except for one, whose plan was rudely interrupted_ , he finished to himself.

“Hmm…” Richards said, looking him over critically, “Well, there must be _some_ scientific reason for two completely unrelated people to look absolutely identical. It might be intriguing to study it. Tell me, would you be willing to come back to my lab so I could run a few scans of the two of us?”

Henry tensed immediately. In other circumstances, he might have considered this a marvelous stroke of good fortune, a way to learn more about his condition. But he’d been in too many situations where examinations revealed far more than he wanted, and he’d been forced to flee, or worse. Richards seemed like a well-meaning man, but once he learned that he had an immortal in his hands, would he be willing to keep that fact a secret? Based on human nature, it seemed extremely unlikely.

So he shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Dr. Richards, but, well…I’m not a big fan of medical tests.”

“Are you sure? We could skip the blood samples, if it’s needles you’re afraid of.”

“Very sure. I wish I could, but it’s just one of those phobias. I’m sure you understand.”

Richards looked disappointed, but shrugged. “Ah, well. If you ever change your mind, you can find me at the Baxter Building, here in New York. Just announce yourself as my doppelgänger, and I’ll let you right up.”

“I’ll think about it,” Henry said, shaking Richards’ hand again, “Good luck with your expedition.”

Richards nodded and moved away, heading upstairs to attend another lecture. Henry waited until he had gone before moving towards the exit. It seemed wise not to sit in on any lectures as long as Richards was around. He didn’t need any more awkward questions thrown his way.

To assuage his guilt over denying Richards the chance to study him, he sent a check for five thousand dollars to the Baxter Building. Clearly, it wasn’t enough, for a few months later, he saw in a magazine that Richards had partnered with businessman Victor Von Doom to undertake his expedition to study a cosmic storm that would be passing by Earth that summer. Henry never fully understood what happened, but he’d gotten the distinct impression that something had gone wrong. Von Doom returned to his native country, and Richards secluded himself in his lab. A decade later, he finally rematerialized at the conference, and Henry was astonished to open his paper and see that Richards now had a completely different face. While it did mean that Henry no longer had to worry about being mistaken for a “brilliant scientist” (according to the papers), it left Henry feeling oddly disturbed. What sort of accident could lead a person to have to change that much?


	5. 2014

Once Henry had gotten the Medical Examiner position, he liked to keep all interruptions at a minimum. When he arrived at work, he was there to work, not to talk. The more opportunities he had to examine the bodies that came through, the better.

This devotion to the job extended to his lunch hour. He tended to eat in his office, reading or working on paperwork as he did so, and then would return to work as soon as he’d cleaned up any crumbs left behind. He knew some of his colleagues wondered about him, especially the youngest, an earnest young man called Lucas, but he didn’t much care. The work came first.

Occasionally, though, he needed a breath of fresh air, and would leave the morgue and go to one of the various cafés in the area (As much as he hated the “chain” nature of many of these places, at least it meant there was always a place for him to go). He’d order a tea and sit outside for the duration of his break, scribbling down notes, either in regards to the latest body or as a reminder of something to research when he got home that evening. Unless an unexpected storm sprang up, he would be completely oblivious to the world around him.

It was during one of these café lunches, as he was wondering if it was worth examining the latest body’s calves for traces of bruising, that a shadow fell across his notes, and a male voice said hesitantly;

“Erm…excuse me. I couldn’t help but notice you across the street, and I just…wanted to get a look at you up close.”

Puzzled and a little annoyed at being interrupted, Henry raised his head, only to stare into a very familiar pair of brown eyes. The man was in jeans and a t-shirt, far more casual than Henry would ever dress, but anyone looking in this direction would assume they were identical twins. “Well then…” Henry said, closing his notebook, “I can see why.”

The man blushed. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but, well, you have to admit, the resemblance is uncanny.”

“I do indeed,” Henry said, gesturing to the seat opposite him, “Please, sit down. This bears a bit of exploration.”

The man sat down and immediately held out his hand. “Ioan.”

“Henry.” Henry said, shaking hands. He looked Ioan up and down, trying to figure out his line of work. Fairly tan, even though it was just entering spring…a few traces of makeup near the ear…fairly good at enunciating his words…

Henry smiled, finally putting it together. “What brings you here from Hollywood, Ioan?”

Ioan started slightly. “D’you know, I’m always surprised when people recognize me. I’m not exactly what you would call ‘A-list.’”

Henry debated whether to be honest or tactful, and went with a mixture of both. “Your secret’s safe with me. Truth be told, I don’t watch movies very much. Otherwise, I might have recognized you right off. But that California tan gave you away.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me in much recently, anyway,” Ioan said, just a trace of frustration in his voice, “That’s part of why I’m here. I’m going to be filming a pilot for a new show in a week or so. I just came early to get a lay of the land.”

“I see. Well, I hope New York treats you well. It’s quite a place.”

“So I’ve gathered the few times I’ve been here. I’m looking forward to the excuse to explore it.”

“And who knows, perhaps you’ll make a career change to Broadway instead.” Henry quipped. Ioan laughed warmly, and Henry took advantage of the opportunity to sneak a glance at his watch. He was enjoying the conversation, but duty called; it was time for him to head back to the morgue. He started to clear the remnants of his lunch off the table. “I really would love to stay and chat, but I have to return to work. It was a pleasure meeting you, though.”

Ioan looked a bit disappointed. “But we only just started talking! We never even got round to talking about you, much less trying to figure out why we look identical. I’m a bit curious to see if we have some sort of family connection.”

Henry hesitated at that. So many times now, he’d run into this situation, and never had the chance to follow up on it. Actually trying to trace a family tree was too risky, though he could always latch on to a different branch—his first cousin’s, perhaps—if the situation arose. Mostly, though, he just wanted a chance to see, well, who he might have been. If he wasn’t cursed with immortality, and had been born in this time, what would he be doing with himself? No doubt Ioan’s personality was very different from his own, but it was the closest Henry could get to answering that question.

He rose to his feet and disposed of his trash, then turned back to Ioan. “Well…the weather’s been fairly nice of late. I suppose I could take my lunch breaks out here for the rest of the week. Do you think you’ll be able to find your way back here?”

Ioan’s eyes lit up. “It shouldn’t be too hard. My hotel’s not far from here.”

“Perfect. Until tomorrow, then.”

He shook hands again and moved away, turning back to wave. Abe would probably raise his eyebrows when Henry told him about this over dinner, but it wasn’t as though Henry was putting himself at much risk like this. Besides, he was always saying Henry should make more friends…


End file.
